


Last Year

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Free!
Genre: Friendship, Future Fic, Love, M/M, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've been wanting to tell you—I don't really know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The very last thing I want is to become "that guy" in Free! fandom, the one who writes all the Makoto rape fics. But this prompt, which asked for a focus on rape recovery, felt important to me. This is the last one, though; doing these kinds of fills for the kink meme is becoming like trying to stem the tide with a teacup...
> 
> For my real-life Rin, who is the single best friend anyone could ever have.

"Thanks," Rin says, accepting the fresh bottle Makoto hands him but foregoing the bottle opener. He twists off the cap with his teeth, ignoring the headshake of dismay Makoto gives him. He takes a swig and grins. "I was wondering when I'd get to see your new place. And it's been way too long since we've hung out. I'm glad you came to the pool with me."

"How could I refuse?" Makoto returns the grin as he pops the cap off his own bottle. "It's not every day an Olympic athlete invites you to go swimming." That's factually untrue, at least in Makoto's case, but Rin doesn't press it. "Anyhow, I'm sorry it's been so long. I know I've been pretty out of it the past few months."

"It's okay." Rin forgives the slight even as he shrugs it off. "You've been busy with the new swimwear campaign."

"Yeah," Makoto says; and then, "That's not it, actually." He watches his fingers tighten around his bottle; watches the bottom edge meet the tiled coaster with the barest clink as he sets it down. "I've been wanting to tell you—I don't really know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it." He meets Rin's curious gaze as evenly as he can. "Last year." Makoto takes a deep breath, pushes out the words with the exhale: "Last year I was raped."

The smile on Rin's face freezes. 

Then his mouth starts moving again, silently, and the smile unfreezes, slides off. "What?" he finally says.

Makoto is still trying to smile. "Yeah." He shrugs, looks off.

" _'Yeah'_?" Rin echoes the word as if it is from a foreign language. "What the fuck?" he says. "What the actual _fuck_?" He's on his feet, hand through his still damp hair to hold it back from his face. "I don't—" He takes a breath himself and looks at Makoto. "What happened?"

"It was last September, after the opening of the new exhibit at the Princess Gallery. I had gone with Kou, do you remember?" Rin nods; his sister had asked him first and no way was he spending an evening looking at handbags, but of course Makoto had been nice enough to escort her. Makoto continues, "She offered me a ride home afterward, but I said it was a nice night for a walk." He pauses. "It was my choice." 

"It wasn't your choice to be fucking raped," Rin returns sharply. 

"I just meant it wasn't Kou's fault," Makoto clarifies.

"I know it wasn't her fault," Rin retorts. "It was the fault of the fucking _asshole_ who—" Rin's jaw closes on the words; his nostrils flare wide for air. "Sorry," he says. He looks at Makoto, even though Makoto's not looking back now; looks at him for him to continue, "please."

Makoto is quiet for another moment. Then he takes another breath and resumes: "I heard someone behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder, and—I know; I know I should have been on my guard, but he was dressed nicely, like he was just coming from the gallery, too. 

"He wasn't looking at me or anything. He—I know I should have been paying more attention. But I'd had a couple of drinks and it was such a nice evening, and..." 

Makoto sighs and finishes, "I turned again when I heard his footsteps quicken but he was already on me. He had a knife—I felt the edge pressing into the side of my neck. He walked me to a parked car, had me take off my jacket, tied it around my head and made me get in the backseat. I never saw his face."

Rin doesn't say anything right away. Then, "motherfucker," under his breath; "that motherfucking asshole." He is uncreative; there aren't words. His fist clenches and unclenches; there is no one, nothing to hit. 

His anger shifts to himself, to his own impotence. He tries to walk it off. 

And then there's another gray-edged shift: "Why didn't you tell me when it happened?" Rin demands, eyes flashing darkly. "Why didn't you trust me? What the fuck, Makoto? I'm your friend, you know? One of your closest friends." 

After a rough start when he came back from Australia all those years ago, Rin had worked really hard to earn the friendship and the trust—though in the raw, usually drunken moments when he brings it up, Makoto laughs and tells him they were always friends; it was just that Rin had to stop working against himself before he could see it. Makoto is weirdly wise sometimes and sometimes Rin pokes him in the forehead, right in his third eye, which makes Makoto laugh more. 

He's not laughing now. He presses his palm flat to his chest and tries to take a breath deep enough for words. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Rin stops pacing. He comes to kneel by Makoto's chair, hand on the armrest. "Makoto." He bites his lip, takes a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me?" He's really talking to Makoto now, voice softer, eyes softer and focused on Makoto. "I could have... I don't know. I don't know what I could have done. I guess I could have done fuck all." He moves his hand to Makoto, a gentle presence on his shoulder. "But I could have been there for you."

Makoto doesn't answer; for the moment, it's like it's all he can do to breathe. He presses his hand harder against his own chest as if to contain the incredible sadness he can feel has overwhelmed Rin's rage.

Then Rin takes his hand, and Makoto finally manages to say, "I'm sorry," again. 

With a squeeze of his hand, Rin tells Makoto to stop apologizing. "I just wish you hadn't had to go through all this alone," he says, easing into relief that Makoto _has_ told him finally, that now he's here and Makoto isn't alone anymore, and—

And the implication hits him, a revelation that reignites his anger: "Is that why Haru broke up with you?" Rin is on his feet again, fist white-knuckled with furious resolve, something and someone to hit now—

"No." Makoto drops his eyes again, swallows hard. "I." Sighing, he looks down, his hands clasped emptily around each other in his lap. "I broke up with him."

Rin is not ready to let go of his anger yet; it's the only thing keeping him from slipping into despair. "Well, why the hell did he let you? Why did he leave you alone like that? What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?"

"I never told him, Rin." Makoto looks up now, into Rin's eyes; he flinches in the gaze, flickering...

Rin stares back for a second.

"He doesn't know." Rin is not stating the obvious so much as trying to reason it out, trying to understand. "He doesn't know what happened to you."

Makoto's only affirmation is in the return of his gaze to Rin's.

"He doesn't know," Rin repeats, more slowly. "...He doesn't know why you broke up with him, does he?"

Rin looks at Makoto until Makoto swallows and shakes his head.

Rin starts to open his mouth but he doesn't know what to say yet. He keeps looking at Makoto. Then he tilts his head and says, softly, softly, no accusation, an honest question: "Why _did_ you break up with him, Makoto?"

Makoto shrugs. He looks away, but there's nowhere to look for answers. His gaze returns to Rin, his own brow furrowed deeply. He shrugs and swallows and, "I just," he shrugs again, crosses his arms in front of his body, holding himself at the elbows, "I just couldn't..."

"You couldn't tell him?" Rin asks softly, trying to coax the words out of him.

Another swallow and shrug, and tears are heavy in Makoto's eyes and he's too tired to hold them in, too tired to brush them away when they start to slip, clinging to his lashes thickly, spilling down... "I couldn't," he says. "I just," he studies the whitened impression on his skin where his thumb is digging in, hard, hard; so hard, and he can't feel it... "I just couldn't. Anything." He looks at Rin. "I just couldn't anymore. I. Didn't want to..." He shakes his head, shrugs. "Couldn't, even if I did want."

It takes Rin a moment; and then his arms are around Makoto. Even when Makoto flinches physically, tries to make himself smaller, vanish himself by twisting inside out and back again, Rin holds fast. He says Makoto's name, over and over, so Makoto knows he's there; so he knows Rin is there, so he knows he himself is there too, Makoto is still here in the world...

"Are you going to be okay?" Rin asks in Makoto's ear before he lets go. "I can stay, if you want."

"I'm okay," Makoto murmurs in return, letting the embrace ease. He says it again as he meets Rin's eyes when they part, reinforcing the assurance with a small and genuine smile; and Rin thinks that maybe Makoto's not, but also that he will be. Okay.

At the door, Rin makes Makoto promise to call if he needs anything. "Anything at all." They hug again, easier this time, a good, solid, normal hug. 

Then just as Rin is turning away, Makoto catches him with a, "Hey, Rin." Rin pauses on the top step. "Don't tell the others, okay?" Makoto says with a casualness too studied to be believed. "I don't want Nagisa or Rei to know."

Rin looks at him. This is Makoto's to tell or not to and Rin would never violate that. He's pretty sure Makoto knows that without a declaration but he nods anyhow, because Makoto needs something here. 

And then, softly, Rin fills in the blank: "What about Haru?"

Makoto doesn't respond; his eyes shy away. 

Rin takes a breath. "You should talk to him, Makoto." He looks at Makoto until Makoto looks back. "Just, you can talk to him, you know?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Makoto," Haru says when he opens the door, the line of his mouth as straight as ever, his smile mostly evident in his eyes.

Makoto hadn't been sure he was going to be able to smile himself but now he does, and it's easy. "Hello, Haru."

He follows Haru to the living room and sits beside him on the sofa. Not right next to him but sharing it; he sits with Haru and looks at Haru's smile, the fullness of it hovering restrained at the upturned corners of Haru's mouth now, uncertain of its welcome. 

"You look good," Makoto tells Haru and his smile.

"You do, too." 

Makoto feels good, better than he has in a while, but he doesn't say that. He only smiles again and thanks Haru.

"I thought we could play something together, if you want." Haru leans forward to pick up a small pile of video games stacked neatly on the low table in front of them. "Unless you had something else in mind?"

Makoto does have something else in mind—but he looks at Haru and Haru's quiet hovering smile, and: "Yeah." He can't help smiling again. "That sounds good."

While Haru goes to the kitchen for drinks, Makoto picks a game and cues it up. There's only one controller out so he digs around for the second one, not sure where it might be since it always used to be plugged in.

He's just found it and is getting back to his feet when Haru comes back in. As they sit down again, Haru says conversationally, "It was good to hear from you." He hands Makoto one of the glasses. "I'm happy you're here." Makoto is about to smile and say he's happy as well, but then Haru adds, "I've missed you." He's never been one to be shy with his feelings but he's also never been one to sling them around casually, conversationally. His gaze on Makoto is as open as his confession, open and focused in a way that makes Makoto feel Haru isn't just looking at him but _seeing_ him. It makes him feel like he belongs here, and he's starting to think that maybe he doesn't have to say anything about _that_ after all, maybe everything can be okay again just like this.

Then, before Makoto can confess that he's missed Haru too, Haru says, "Rin told me he thought you were going to call me. He said it was a feeling he got, when he saw you a couple of weeks ago. I didn't really believe him. I think he knew I didn't, and now I'll have to admit that he was right and I was wrong." Haru's sigh is laced with the particular mix of fondness and exasperation he reserves for their best friend. 

Makoto wants to kill Rin. And at the same time, he loves Rin more than ever.

He takes a deep breath. 

And tells Haru what he told Rin.

And then he tells Haru more. The way he was bound at his wrists and ankles with duct tape. The way the hair ripped when it came off, hours later; how a patch by his left ankle still hasn't grown back. "He just, for a lot of the time, he just looked at me." He swallows, remembers thumbs digging into his ass, holding him open. The feel of breath. "He did more than just look." Haru rests his hand over Makoto's. "He didn't tear me when he entered me. That wasn't the worst." 

He remembers the feel of breath, the feel of— "He kissed me. I didn't want to. I mean, I didn't want to do any of it, but that—"

Makoto turns palm-up, curls his fingers around Haru's, holds on tight, tight...

Haru doesn't say anything right away when Makoto finishes. He just sits there, letting Makoto hold on, holding Makoto back.

Haru's words and mouth are soft, his eyes downturned, when he breaks the quiet: "It makes sense now." He looks up and their eyes meet. "When you. Told me you needed space." He says it without quotation marks, without irony. "It didn't feel like you didn't love me anymore. I thought you wanted me to think that, though, and I couldn't figure out why.

"Then after a while, I started to think maybe I was going Psycho Ex on you." His mouth quirks with a wryness not reflected in his eyes. "So I made myself stop. I stopped trying to figure it out. I left you alone, like you asked. I stopped thinking about whether you really wanted it or only wanted me think so; I just did it. I tried to make myself accept that you didn't love me, no matter what I believed or wanted to."

Haru holds his gaze, letting Makoto slip out of it when he needs to, still there when he looks back.

It's Makoto who breaks the quiet this time: tells Haru he always loved him. "Always." 

Haru doesn't respond with words, though his hand tightens around Makoto's. 

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Makoto says.

"You didn't lie," Haru says. "You really did need space."

Makoto holds onto Haru's hand. He can't even think of words in his head, let alone get them off his tongue.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Haru says, when his own mouth is working again. "I'm sorry I wasn't there _with_ you." He looks at Makoto, searches his eyes. "I should have known; even if you didn't tell me, I should have _known_. We've always been able to understand each other without words. I wish I could have felt—"

"I'm glad you couldn't," Makoto interrupts hotly.

Haru's mouth opens as he inhales, exhales a soft _oh_ of dawning understanding. "That's why." He looks at Makoto, into him, doesn't let him look away this time. "That's why you wanted space," Haru says softly. "Not for yourself, but for me."

Makoto wants so much to look away but he keeps looking at Haru, keeps looking past the points of want and need; keeps looking, even when he can't see through the hot damp blur.

"Do you want to stay?" 

Makoto doesn't know if Haru means for the night or forever; maybe it doesn't matter right now; maybe all that matters, is right now. He nods.

In the bedroom, Haru finds Makoto something to wear, then goes into the adjoining bathroom. Through the open door, Makoto hears the sound of a drawer opening and then, "I still have it." Haru leans back into the room, holding up Makoto's toothbrush, the one he'd left here all those months ago.

Makoto feels a familiar comfort as his fingers curl around the handle when he takes it from Haru. He meets his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, neither lingering nor shying away as he brushes his teeth, washes his face.

When he comes out, Haru is already in bed. Makoto lifts the covers and climbs in, and Haru leans over to kiss him chastely good night before turning out the light.

"That was the worst," Makoto says quietly in the dark, not lying down, unable to stop remembering: "The kiss." The light comes on again but it's still dark behind his closed eyelids. "His cock and his come were bad, but the kissing..." His words cut off with inarticulate despair at the violation, a secret stolen, an emotion tarnished. "I can't get rid of it, no matter what I eat or drink, no matter how much I scrub out my mouth." His fingertips hover on his lips, as if afraid to enter his own mouth, to touch what's there. 

Fingertips, not his own, touch Makoto's hand, touch his mouth. Makoto looks at Haru, lets Haru take his hand, Haru holding both of Makoto's hands now; and then Haru lets go, looks into Makoto's eyes, gently touches his face, both hands cradling Makoto. 

Makoto parts his lips, trying to breathe; it's hard to breathe. 

He closes his eyes and tilts in Haru's hands, so his jaw nuzzles along Haru's hand, so Haru's fingertips slide from the soft spot behind his ears up into his hair and back down to his bare skin. He stills, tries to breathe, feels Haru's breath on his face. 

He opens his eyes. Haru's eyes are open, too. Makoto swallows. Parts his lips again. Touches them to Haru's. Breathes in Haru. 

Makoto breathes. Their lips dovetail, fit together easily. Not kissing, but breathing. 

As they lie down at last, Haru tucks in behind Makoto, curves around him, and Makoto can feel hints of his softness. He takes comfort in it, Haru's warmth and softness. He presses himself back against Haru more. A little more; a little more. Makoto can feel Haru's heat through the thin material; he can feel the softness of Haru's cock.

Haru lets Makoto shift as he will, settling against and with him.

Makoto feels Haru with the curve of his back; feels Haru with the curve of his ass. And Haru is still soft.

He turns just enough to look over his shoulder.

Their eyes meet. Before Makoto can put voice to it, Haru sees it in his eyes and says, "It's not because I don't want you, Makoto.

"It's because I do."

They look at each other, into each other's eyes. Even when Makoto closes his eyes, he can feel Haru's gaze. 

Tomorrow, they will talk more. Haru will thank Makoto for telling him, and Makoto will thank Haru for letting him. They will kiss. Haru will not want to break Makoto, and Makoto will go down on Haru, he will swallow Haru whole and when Haru comes he will spill into Makoto, and Makoto will not spill any of him out, because Makoto is not broken. And they will share more words. And they will share more tomorrows.

Tonight, they sleep; Makoto sleeps, for the first time since last year.


End file.
